


All The Kings Horses & All The Kingsman

by Birdie_Castellan



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, Amnesiac Harry, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Head Injury, Headaches & Migraines, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:42:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27805537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdie_Castellan/pseuds/Birdie_Castellan
Summary: Harry Hart had his good days and bad days, just like everyone else.He and Eggsy would sit on a bench in Hyde Park and watch Daisy rope Percival into pushing her on the swings.Harry's bad days were quite the opposite.The first time it happened was the worst.Harry has bouts of temporary amnesia as a result of him being shot by Valentine.
Relationships: Harry Hart | Galahad & Gary "Eggsy" Unwin, Harry Hart | Galahad/Percival, Percival & Gary "Eggsy" Unwin
Comments: 14
Kudos: 16





	All The Kings Horses & All The Kingsman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Misterdevere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misterdevere/gifts).



> Everyone give Misterdevere a round of applause for putting up with my randomly messaging them chunks of angst from this fic without any context or warnings. I'm still not sorry for the angst, but I still think you might try to kill me lol so I hope you enjoy this gift!
> 
> Oh also I don't have temporary amnesia, but I do have some lasting issues from head trauma, and I still can't remember really anything that happened the day of my concussion, so yes I did mostly base this on my own issues involving head trauma.
> 
> I was helping my family split wood when i was 12 when a piece of wood with a wonky grain ended up flying off of the wood splitter, sailed ten feet through the air, and smacked me in the face (or so i've been told).
> 
> If you wanna know more about it, or just want to yell at me for inflicting all of this angst, then come find me @dauntlessdiva on tumblr.

Harry Hart had his good days and bad days, just like everyone else.

His good days were typically ones spent at home with his husband, or out with his son of sorts. On their days off, Arthur and Percival shed their Kingsman suits, and spent all their time together as Harry and Oliver, two homebodies that only left the house when Eggsy or Roxy invited them out.

The times they were coaxed into going outside, the pair would often meet up with Eggsy and his sister in Hyde Park. He and Eggsy would sit on a bench and watch Daisy rope Oliver into pushing her on the swings.

Harry's good days were as normal as everyone else's.

Harry's bad days were quite the opposite.

The first time it happened, they were sitting in his office, talking over a cuppa. Eggsy was recalling the events between their 24 hours together and the chaos of V-day; memories Harry knew he had no hope of getting back, and, from what he's heard, he's decidedly better off without them.

Suddenly the room is spinning. Harry quickly returns his teacup to it's saucer before resting his head against the cool wood of his oak desk. He can feel a headache starting to form, but ignores it for now.

"Haz?" He hears a voice call out. Looking up, he meets the concerned gaze of the young man seated in front of him. Harry quickly gathers himself back into a proper sitting position, giving himself a bit of a shake in the hopes that it will help him regain his bearings.

"So sorry about that, my boy." Harry clears his throat, still a bit disoriented. "Tell me, Lee, how is your family? I bet young Gary misses you terribly."

He watched with mounting confusion as a wealth of emotions flickered across Lee Unwin's face, nearly too fast to notice, before it finally settled into a deep frown. A deep V appeared between furrowed brows, his skin was ashen, eyes missing their spark, and his mouth twisted downward so far it was almost comical. To put it lightly, the boy looked absolutely crushed.

"Lee?" Harry asked, "What's wrong, is your son alright? Michelle is taking proper care of Gary, is she not?" The blond- and since when was Lee blond?- young man before him shook his head once, very slowly.

"No," he croaked, "no, I'm- I mean Gary- Eggsy- is fine."

The boy was beginning to look less like Lee the more Harry observed him, and his floundering set off warning bells in the older man's head. Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, he leant across the expensive oak desk and got as far into the nervous man's space as he could. "Who are you and what have you done with Lee Unwin."

He watched the frantic green eyes widen in shock and fear as he reached under the desk. Harry was seconds away from pinning the man to the desk himself when the lad finally sat back and after taking a moment to collect himself, he finally responded.

"You probably ain't gonna believe me Haz, but Lee is dead. Has been for 20 years." Harry should be angry, he should be furious that someone would dare lie to him about the death of his candidate, but something about the man screamed that he was telling the truth.

Before Harry had gathered his thoughts enough to form a response, the lad had fished a medal out from under his shirt and continued to speak, not daring to look anywhere that wasn't the Kingsman medallion.

"You came to our house to tell Mum about his passing and to give us this." He sniffed, moving the medallion slightly. "Said if we called the number on the back and said some silly phrase then you'd grant us a favour. Told me to say 'Oxfords, Not Brogues'. After hanging onto this for almost two decades, I finally did."

Harry was going to be sick. Where was the bloody waste bin, he could feel bile rising in the back of his throat. At first he'd thought that the man was just a very talented actor, but the more he spoke the more real it felt. And at that phrase- that _stupid_ phrase- he knew with certainty that the man before him was indeed Lee's son, Gary Unwin. _Eggsy,_ his rattled mind finally supplied, _he prefers Eggsy._

So of course that's the moment his husband practically knocked his office door off of it's hinges.

Harry was still frantic, no longer feeling liable to vomit, but now he had the distinct feeling that his skin didn't fit right. It was too tight where it should have more give, and too soft where it should be taut, it was wrinkled in places it shouldn't be and there was all at once too much and not enough of it to properly cover his body.

Harry felt like he, too, had been knocked off his hinges; if only for a moment.

By now his headache has grown into a head-splitting migraine so intense Harry briefly wonders how he is still in one piece, but that isn't of any import to Harry at the moment.

He almost doesn't hear Oliver asking Eggsy about hitting a panic button over the dawning horror he feels over what just transpired between himself and one of his best agents. The young man he thinks of as a son.

Then Oliver is there, in the small space between Harry and his desk, handing him his cup of lukewarm tea. He sips the tepid drink absently, watching Eggsy watch his husband as he assesses Harry's vitals.

Aside from the migraine, Harry seems to be in great shape. Though he still lets Percival march him down to Medical, Eggsy trailing behind them.

His bad days weren't normally as extreme as that first day- save for the time Merlin nearly choked on his drink when Harry asked what time James would be joining them for a pint- they all learn his signs and figure out a system to help him through his bouts of amnesia with as little mortification as possible.

Eggsy never took it personally when Harry couldn't remember who he was or how they knew each other, and for that Harry was grateful.

Harry was grateful for his husband for having Merlin personally install multiple panic buttons in all the agents offices in case he had another episode.

Harry was grateful for his family and friends who never thought less of him for his memory lapses. He would be forever grateful that he had such kind and understanding individuals who were willing to support him through all his good days and all his bad days.

Eventually Harry stopped being embarrassed by the temporary amnesia. He learned to embrace it, and use those moments as a reminder that he's alive.

Of course Harry Hart's bad days are unlike anyone else's, for no one else had survived being shot point blank by a billionaire megalomaniac.

**Author's Note:**

> An actual message I got from Gyhl last night: Welcome to the Dark Side? We have crowns?


End file.
